Destiny
by ahodgepodgeofthings
Summary: Sam purifies Crowley's soul, and the Trials are completed.


"...I'm begging you," Sam looked at Dean through exhausted eyes, saw his hardness, his pleading. He knew his brother didn't want him to do this.

But Dean was lying. He had issues with Sam. He'd always had issues with Sam. His brother didn't have any faith in him, his brother just wanted him around because he didn't have anyone else.

Not that Sam blamed Dean for any of this. But he was so _tired_. Tired from the Trials, tired from the Cage, tired from always believing he was a monster. Losing Jess, losing Dad. Losing Mom. Dean dying. Ruby betraying him. And all of his constant _mistakes_. He'd only ever tried to do his best, but all he ever did was screw things up.

It would be better this way for Dean. He'd hurt his brother too much; yes, this would hurt too, but Dean would learn to deal with it, and his life would be better without him in it. All Sam had ever done to Dean was cause him pain.

At least this way, he'd die doing something good. He wouldn't be alive to make any more mistakes, to make his loved ones suffer more than they already had.

And there would be no more pain. All his life he'd been filled with constant agony; at least this way, he'd be somewhat redeemed. Purified. He could feel the purity, the change within him through the crippling agony, and he was _glad_ for it. He took a glance at Crowley, and then back at Dean. Then at his glowing arms.

And he made his decision.

Before Dean could react, he jumped and ran to Crowley. He poured his remaining blood into the syringe, and then made to shove it into Crowley's neck.

It felt like the world was moving in slow motion. His brother was screaming, yelling at him not to do it, but it was too late. There was only a second's hesitation, and then Sam plunged the syringe into Crowley's neck. The demon gave a cry of pain as the last of his soul was purified, untwisted, washed clean.

There was a pause in which Sam stood there, bracing himself, leaning on Crowley's shoulders for support as the former demon fell unconscious. His ragged breaths filled the room, and he closed his eyes for a moment, but then forced them open. He wanted his brother to be the last thing he saw before he was gone.

And then he felt it, he felt it running throughout his body. He let out a shaky gasp but refused to look down, even as he saw Dean's horrified look.

He could feel the glow spreading from his arms through the rest of his body, growing brighter and brighter. And Sam finally let a shaky, tear-filled smile spread across his face as he took one last look at his brother. "Thank you," he managed to choke out, just loud enough for Dean to hear him. "For everything, Dean."

And then his world dissipated in an explosion of white.

When Sam regained consciousness, the first thing he felt was cold. Bitter, mind-numbing, freezing cold, especially compared to the sweltering heat he'd felt rippling through his veins not a moment before.

The second thing he noticed was that there was no pain. He was on longer in crippling agony, but the purity was gone too. He felt...the same. The same as he'd always been, before the Trials. It was...freeing, but disappointing.

Finally, he opened his eyes, and was surprised when he was greeted by none other than Death himself.

The Horseman was staring at him, and they were sitting in a sitting room that seemed vaguely familiar to Sam, but he couldn't quiet place it. Death was regarding him with an intense but emotionless look. It was calculating, musing. There was a single spark of interest in it.

Sam merely gazed back at him. He was too tired to be afraid, but he would wait for the Horseman to speak first.

Death seemed to realize this, and so finally he broke the silence. "Sam," he said. It was a greeting.

Sam inclined his head in return. He had no desire to speak just yet.

"This wasn't supposed to happen."

This finally allowed Sam to break his silence. "What?" His voice was slightly raspy from disuse, although he knew he only had to have spoken but a moment ago, when he'd said goodbye to Dean. ...surely?

Death eyed him closely, looking him up and down. "Your soul should have been destroyed when you completed the final trial. And yet it is salvaged."

"But...the gates of Hell? They're closed, aren't they?" A momentary flash of panic had risen in Sam's chest, but it quickly stifled itself once Death nodded.

"Then...how am I...in tact?"

"Well, my guess would be the demon blood," Death said almost nonchalantly, causing Sam to slump defeatedly in his seat. Of course...it would be that he'd be too much of a freak to even _die_ properly.

"Oh, stop that," Death chastised him mildly, "that pathetic self-loathing. It's incredibly unbecoming, especially for a soul of your caliber, Sam Winchester."

Sam felt his jaw slacken momentarily at this, and he stirred in his chair before regaining self-control and shutting his mouth. "Sorry, uh. But, I—" He looked around, swallowing. "Um...where are we?"

"Well right now, we are in limbo, I suppose you could say. But really we are in Hell. Your soul was shut behind it when the gates were closed."

Sam felt his mouth dry, his heart beat faster...well, did he even have a heart? It certainly felt like it. "I'm...trapped? But...but..."

"It had nowhere else to go, you must understand. Rather than being destroyed it is here, because it was sealed shut along with everything else."

"I...I..." Dumbfounded, Sam felt tears prick at his eyes as a sensation of utter helplessness swept over him. Finally, he looked at Death. "What am I supposed to do?"

Death cocked his head at him, sweeping his cold, emotionless gaze over Sam. But Sam could have sworn he saw a slight glimmer of something he couldn't define in the Horseman's eyes. "That is up to you, Sam Winchester."

The room was swimming, blurring before him. Sam could feel his body's solidity fading along with his vision. The sensation was overwhelming.

"You have proven before that you are master of your own destiny, Sam. But perhaps looking to your past may help you find the answer that you seek..."

When Sam opened his eyes, he found himself in the throne room of Hell. Demons surrounded him, staring at him, eyes wide. He wondered briefly why they hadn't tried to kill him yet. His eyes darted sharply around the room, taking in their stances, their expressions; they were afraid, lost.

It was then that he remembered...Crowley was their king. And he was gone. They were all trapped here, trapped together forever...

Hell wasn't going to change...unless...

He stood abruptly on his feet, towering over most of the figures in the room. A few of them flinched back, most of them stared warily, and a few met his gaze evenly. They would be challenging.

But...

Sam moved back a few paces, glancing down at the throne.

And then he sat.

And finally all the demons saw that the boy king had at last, finally, come to claim his rightful position. And Hell would be changed forever, for the better, with finally a fair and just leader at its head.

The Gates were closed, but there was a new king, and Sam Winchester would rule for the rest of time.


End file.
